Transformation
by silvanelf
Summary: A short little vignette on Remus during the night of a full moon. It shows his transformation. Only Remus is featured here. This is a ONE-SHOT.


Hello everyone! I know I said that I was going to write a full Harry Potter fic, but an idea has come up for an original piece that I wish to spend my writing energy upon. But since I said I would post some HP I have written this quick vignette, a quick look at Remus transforming. Remus is by far my favorite character! Hope you enjoy!

_Transformation_

_Just before moonrise..._

The door had been locked tightly. A strong, silver padlock was clasped upon it, and the key was on the other side, only a summoning spell would bring it to him, and he would not be casting one tonight.

His wand had been placed underneath a lose stone. It would remain there until dawn, much later than dawn actually, along with his clothes. He was too poor to go through an entire new set of robes each month--no, these had to be set aside. The cold air burned against his skin.

There were no windows--he was underground. Nothing to let him know when the first sliver of moonlight struck the earth, except for when he transformed. He had heard people talk about how breathtaking a full moon was, never guessing that in his situation the remark applied to him literally. It set his teeth on edge, such remarks, and inside him it hurt greatly, but he never mentioned this to them. If they knew what he was they would probably never talk to him again.

Most people he associated with knew him for what he was--a werewolf. But the few people who he interacted with upon jobs...those people, for the most part, had no clue about his nature. And he preferred to keep it that way. Let them think what they wanted about his shabby appearance. Some company was better than none.

Ah, but tonight...tonight he was certainly alone. Remus Lupin sat upon the stone floor of his cellar, one finger absentmindedly tracing an old bloodstain. Goosebumps had risen on his flesh, but by now he was used to coming down to his cellar once a month--sitting there completely naked until the curse took hold of him. The embarrassment of it to himself had long since faded away.

His bones began to ache. It would be soon now.

Remus sighed. He was so tired of all of this. How he wished he could be upstairs, reading, catching up on business, even out with the others in the Order, or visiting Sirius. What a waste of his time, having to spend these nights down here, and the following days recovering. Here he was, a well- respected man in his circles, sitting down here in his dank, dark cellar, waiting to become..._Admit it Remus, you're waiting to become a monster_. He quickly pushed the thought aside.

Becoming bored of sitting, he thought he might stand and pace for a bit. But just as he started to stand, his ears picked up a soft chime from upstairs. As a werewolf he experienced a higher quality of senses than normal men. His hearing could quite easily pick up the clock chiming the hour. _Moonrise_.

A second later, all civil thoughts left him as pain struck his being. Falling to all fours, he tried to remain upright, pressing his hands down as he fought back a scream. Terror rushed through him with the pain. A horrible hunger opened up deep inside him. The pain was still present, but only part of it came from his transformation. His mind was shoved aside, the wolf's mind emerging, and with the predator came the hunger.

Bones snapped, blood seeped upon the floor. Remus's hair turned completely gray as his arms elongated, and his spine lengthened. Screams poured from his mouth, but the wolf only observed this from a distance. His hunger took up everything else, created in him a new pain, a sharp, aching one that drove all other thoughts back.

Remus was gone. A giant, gray wolf stood snarling in his place. By the looks of it, it had not fed very well lately, if ever. Ribs could be seen beneath the fur, and the eyes had a desperate, dangerous look. It howled, and rushed up the stairs, frantic to escape this room. If there was anything that Remus and the wolf had in common, it was that they both hated this room _passionately_.

Deep claw marks were gouged in the door, and the wolf set his claws upon the thick wood viciously. But again, as all other times he had tried, he could not move the door. He only succeeded in embedding wood slivers into his paws, causing him exquisite pain. The presence of the silver lock made the wolf nervous, and the animal backed away.

But the hunger! The hunger was there, causing his eyes to red, and his lip to curl back, exposing a fang. He needed to satisfy this! The pain intensified, and he began to scratch at himself, clawing at his legs and underbelly. Blood spilled out and he lapped it greedily.

Satisfaction! He bit eagerly at himself now--bit and scratched till the walls were splattered with fresh blood, and he could appease the ache inside him all he pleased. He howled, springing against the stone in a mad, blood-crazed rage.

Blood poured from him. He found his energy flowing out with it. Still he ran and scratched and bit. A red, firery haze settled into the wolf's mind, plunging it down a path of madness. Foam, dark with blood, dripped from his mouth, and the wolf went wild...

* * *

Remus came to himself. Slowly, the pounding in his head increased and the comforting blackness flew away. His body ached everywhere, and his jaws were sore. He felt raw. Opening his eyes, he saw that he, as well as his cellar, was covered in blood.

Remus didn't move. He knew better by now that movement at this point would only add to the extreme nausea he was feeling. He knew if he puked, it would be his own blood coming up and he had no wish to see that.

He lay still, his limbs trembling a little from the aftermath of last night. Each month was becoming worse as the wolf became more and more hungry. It had been _so_ much better with the wolfsbane potion. He cursed bitterly every transformation that he couldn't make it himself.

Exhaustion was creeping over him, but he didn't move for his wand and clothes yet. He closed his eyes, and willed for the pain to recede, for him to pull himself together again. He couldn't remember much from last night--only that it had been painful. Casting his eyes downward, he saw the gashes and scrapes he had self-inflicted.

With a huge effort, he sat up. Vomit and bile rose in the back of his throat as the room spun around him. His vision went gray, and the pounding in his head intensified so greatly that he thought his skull would explode. He forced the bile back down. He hated puking almost as much as he hated being a werewolf.

Weak hands scrabbled at the lose stone, barely managing to pull it up and set it aside. He pulled his robes over his shivering body, and grabbed his wand. Whispering, he summoned his key with a hoarse voice. It flew to him under the small crack at the bottom of the entrance.

Standing unsteadily, he made his way to the door, and unlocked it. He held the silver mechanism through his robes, never touching the padlock directly.

Once back inside what he considered his home, he tumbled down upon a sofa, and finally allowed his exhaustion to claim him. A merciful blackness settled over his mind, but this time, he welcomed losing himself. As the day brightened around him, he remained safely ensnared by the darkness, the pain gone from any stray thought. This utter exhaustion was the only time his mind truly found, in some form, a sense of peace.

* * *

There ya go! Again, I hope you enjoyed. Sometime in the future I will be posting again, but probably not for a long time. I would love reviews, if you wish to comment upon any of my writing. Thanks!  
silvanelf


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